The Lost and Lonely
by FlatFox
Summary: The children living on the Isle of the Lost never had it easy. They could never escape the horrors.


**Hi guys *shy wave* I know it's been a long time, but I'm starting this new story and seeing where it goes. I hope you like.  
**

* * *

Imagine a small, dark world with black clouds concealing the sky. Where a bone-chilling wind whistles through the tall buildings and narrow alleys. A dirty island full of dirty people who lie, cheat, and steal.

This is a place where abuse and torture is normal and hurting oneself is an everyday activity. Rape is commonplace. No one can be trusted. Anyone could be betrayed.

* * *

Carlos was crying, waving his arms and legs about helplessly. Cruella knelt down and picked him up from the floor. She cradled him in her arms, but it did no good. "Shut up," she told the baby fiercely. "I'm sick of your crying!" Carlos continued to wail, ignoring his mother. Finally, she put a hand over his mouth and nose, smothering him. The lack of air stopped him from crying but he struggled, his eyes wild in fear. She took her hand off his face, letting him breathe again. Carlos took a huge breath, and again began crying at the top of his lungs. She covered his face again, cutting off all air to his lungs.

Eventually, Carlos never cried. He sat, silent with huge eyes that never seemed to blink. Watching Cruella. Watching things no one else could see.

* * *

"Grimmy!" Maleficent called as she opened the door. "How nice to see you. Do come in!"

"For the last time, I would prefer if you would call me Grimhilde," the evil queen replied, stepping through the doorway, holding her skirt in one hand and dragging a small girl with the other. "This is my daughter, Evie."

"Look at the evil little creature," Maleficent cooed, bending down for a closer look at the blue-haired girl.

The girl stood up very straight, her head held high. "It's a pleasure to meet you." she told Maleficent politely, executing a perfect curtsy despite the high heels she was wearing.

"Just let me get Mal and they can play." Maleficent smiled tightly and then walked over to a flight of stairs. "MALLL!" she shrieked. "Mal, get down here this instant!"

Almost immediately, Mal's feet could be heard thundering down the stairs. "Yes, Mother?" she asked as she appeared in the doorway and approached Maleficent.

Maleficent turned Mal to face Grimhilde. "This is my daughter; Mal." Then she added aside, "Well, her real name is Maleficent Junior, but she hasn't quite grown into that, has she?" She grabbed Mal's arm and squeezed it, digging in her fingernails.

Mal flinched and looked down. "No, Mother."

"Well you two go play, or whatever children your age do these days." Maleficent shoved Mal towards Evie. "Grimmy and I are having tea. I do not want to see or hear you." She wagged a finger in front of Mal's face. "If we do, you will be in big trouble…"

Mal looked at the floor. "Yes, Mother."

"Evie, remember your manners," Grimhilde called as she sailed away with Maleficent.

The two girls eyed each other warily for a long moment. Finally Mal spoke. "C'mon. We're playing Who Would You Murder." She grabbed Evie's hand and dragged her into a different room.

"What's Who Would You Murder?" Evie asked, eyes wide, as they approached a window looking onto the street below.

"Mother taught me it. We play it all the time," Mal explained, rubbing at the grimy window with her sleeve. "We look at the people and see which one to murder. And then we say how to do it. Like that one." Mal pointed at a man stealing a loaf of bread. "I would hack him into little pieces while he was still alive. Your turn!"

* * *

"Mother! Mother!" Mal called, waving a piece of paper excitedly. "Look at what I drew!"

"Not now, Mal." Maleficent snapped, not even looking up from the book she was reading. "Besides, I don't care about your stupid little drawings. You should be investing your time in something worthwhile like learning how to be TRULY EVIL!."

Mal's face fell.

"Now shoo! You're ruining my book," Maleficent ordered, waving a hand at Mal, eyes still on her book.

Mal's shoulders slumped and she shuffled out of the room, curling her hands into fists, wrinkling the scrap of paper in her hand that contained the drawing she had worked so hard to make. A feeling of rage welled up in her chest, threatening to erupt from her, but she pushed it down. The tears struggled to appear, but in vain. Her tears, and her anger, remained inside her. Trapped.

She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her as forcefully as her small body could.

Mal squinted up at the dim sun. It wasn't quite high sun, but she decided to arrive early for her meeting with Evie. She headed up the alleyway and crawled into a tiny tunnel just big enough for her.

The room was small, but contained several old pillows, full of holes, and two beautiful, cracked teacups. The teacups were at Evie's insistence. She had even woven small mats out of scraps of ribbon for under them.

Mal sat and waited. Her mind furiously working, glaring at the teacups.

Finally, Evie's head appeared from out of the tunnel. "Hey," she greeted Mal softly. She immediately knew Mal was in a bad mood. "What's wrong?"

"Here." Mal shoved the paper at Evie. "I don't want this anymore."

Evie gasped in delight. "You drew this?! It's beautiful, M."

"Oh." Mal looked away, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. She glared at the wall. "Mother didn't seem to think so."

"Did you cry?"

"No. I'm not allowed to cry. Mother says it's a form of weakness." She viciously scratched her left arm, which was ridiculously itchy. "I think my arm is getting infected. Do you have anything for it?"

"I'll see if I can bring you anything next time. Let me see?"

Mal shifted so she was sitting on her legs and shrugged off her jacket, revealing her arm. The few parallel lines stood out angrily, red against her white skin.

Evie gracefully swung her hair over her shoulder and examined the cuts. "Yeah, they'll be infected in a day or two if you're not careful. Try to keep them clean and I'll see what I can do about something to put on them."

Mal looked at Evie. "Besides, E. I can't cry. It's like… like the tears are stuck inside me and they won't come out."

"I wish I was like that. My mother is always telling me 'Princesses do not cry.' I can't stop myself sometimes."

"No you don't, E. It's awful. I'd rather cry all the time in front of my mother than not be able to cry at all."

"But wouldn't your mother hurt you for crying?"

"It'd be better than this."

Evie reached for Mal's hand and took it gently, running her thumb over Mal's many scars and calluses. Mal sighed and leaned against Evie, lost in thought, wishing herself dead.

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 **Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!**

 **-FlatFox**


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